A week ago, passing across midtown Manhattan’s Duffy
Square, I was startled to come across what is being called “participatory public
art.” Last week’s issue of Time Out New York included the “Inside Out Project” among
the city’s examples of “outdoor art.”
What was happening was this: At a specially designed
photo booth in Times Square, passersby could have their pictures taken, then
have these black-and-white self-portraits overlaid on a backdrop created by the
artist JR. (Question: “JR? You mean the guy in Dallas that just died?” Answer: I don’t know if this artist is into
hats, but he’s French, so my guess is the Texas city is not his style.)
These posters, I had read, would be on display
through May 10. Yesterday morning, I wondered if the project had come to a
premature end, as I saw street cleaners mopping up the remains of these
posters. Why were they sweeping these up? Because of the rain beginning to fall? Because new portraits needed to be made? Or because they couldn't last?
But this afternoon, I saw a whole new set, ready to replace the old images.
But this afternoon, I saw a whole new set, ready to replace the old images.
It’s almost Whitmanesque, this celebratory Song of
Ourselves. Sadly, though it might be public art, it’s also, at heart, ephemeral
art, too. The black-and-white posters seen here are already history. The image
you see on your screen now is the last evidence of their existence.
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